Page 50 of Sorry, Not Sorry
Noah’s expression sobered. ‘Me too. I can’t have the two most important women in my life at odds with each other. Mum and Zazie will probably never be best friends but if they can get along, I’m comfortable about taking things to the next level.’
Delilah nodded sympathetically even as her mind was furiously connecting the dots. The timing of his mother’s invitation was no coincidence. Delilah’s attempt to make peace with Mrs West had clearly backfired, especially after Noah’s unexpected defence of his ex-fiancée. It seemed his mother was prepared to do anything to get rid of Delilah – including belatedly rolling out the welcome mat for Zazie. The irony that Zazie was planning to deprive Mrs West of the grandchildren she constantly harped on about was obvious, but she and Noah had agreed to put any acrimony behind them, and it wasn’t her place to interfere. She could only hope Zazie would do the right thing and admit her feelings about having kids to Noah before it was too late.
Suddenly desperate for Noah to leave, Delilah dropped the sodden towel of melting ice on the side table and stood up. The emotional darts lobbed in her direction since Noah’s arrival had overtaken the pain in her toe, and she could feel tears building up behind her eyes. Limping gingerly to the front door, she opened it, and Noah gave her a friendly hug that made her want to weep like a baby. She glanced at his arm, wondering again about the crown tattoo. What difference would it make even if it was still there, she thought wearily. Whatever was printed on his arm, Noah had left her in no doubt that he had moved on in his heart.
He stood in the doorway and held her gaze. ‘It’s time we both started a new chapter, Del. I want you to know I’m not holding a grudge any more. You came to me to ask for my forgiveness, and it’s yours. I really hope you get your job back cos from everything I’ve seen, you’d make an awesome relationship counsellor.’
He cuffed her gently on the chin. ‘Don’t give up on your dream, you hear?’
Forcing a smile, Delilah nodded and watched him take the stairs two at a time before closing the door and leaning back against it. She let out the breath she had been holding, but that didn’t stop the tears rolling down her face. Noah had forgiven her. She had finally got what she wanted, so why did she feel so empty inside? Walking back to sit on the couch that was still warm from Noah, she curled up into a ball and sobbed. Gone was the secret hope she had harboured for a reset in their relationship. Arne and Salome had been right, and even Armenique had warned her to keep her distance. Second chances only happened in romance novels, not in real life.
33
‘Please, Polly! I’ve been working on myself like you wouldn’t believe. For months, I’ve reflected on and assessed my past relationships like you said. I’ve explained to you how I’ve gone in search of my ex-boyfriends and taken accountability for my behaviour and made amends. I’ve seen Arne every single Monday except when he went on holiday, and I am so much clearer about myself. I totally get my biases and my triggers, and – and everything! I want – no, I need to come back to work. I promise things will be different.’
With little else to do except nurse her broken heart, Delilah had impulsively risked a final throw of the dice by calling Polly first thing on Monday morning. Polly had sounded pleased to hear from her and had listened carefully while Delilah explained her progress with therapy and detailed her reflections about the impact of her past relationships and her learning.
But, despite her manager’s pleasant and sympathetic tone, it was clear to Delilah that her pleas to return to work were landing on stony ground, and Polly wasn’t going to shift.
‘I can tell you’re making great progress and it’s so encouraging that you’ve spent this time re-examining your past relationships, Del. It’s clear you’re working on yourself, and this will all help make you an amazing and compassionate counsellor. I’m delighted you’re sticking with therapy. It’s crucial and I knew you’d find the sessions helpful – and didn’t I tell you Arne’s the absolute best?’
‘But Polly?—’
‘Delilah, listen to me,’ Polly interrupted. ‘Therapy isn’t a magic switch. If you want to see real change, you need to do the work with Arne so you can sustain your progress for the long term.’
‘But I don’t need fixing!’ Delilah burst out in frustration.
There was a short silence and then Polly said gently, ‘This isn’t about fixing you, Del. You are not broken. We all have unresolved issues; it’s called being human. Going through therapy is so we can learn about ourselves and understand our conscious and unconscious patterns – what they are, where they started, what keeps them going, and how we improve ourselves so we can serve those in our care and not let our issues spill onto our clients. But counselling only works if we have explored and, most crucially, changed our behaviour. I want you to give this process a little more time, and you’ll see the reward from the efforts you put in.’
When Delilah didn’t answer, Polly went on. ‘Keep up the good work and Arne will let me know when he thinks you’re ready to come back, okay?’
No! Delilah screamed silently. It isn’t okay!
On the brink of tears, she ended the call and flung her phone onto the sofa. She had embarked on the tortuous process of throwing herself on the mercy of irate former boyfriends, navigating painful memories in therapy and reviving her dormant feelings for Noah, only to have it thrown in her face. She had done all this to show Polly she had matured as a person and a counsellor… and it was all for nothing! For a moment, she felt like hurling herself on the floor and howling like a child, but even Maya had grown past throwing tantrums.
So, what now Del?
34
The gloomy weather lasted the rest of the week, mirroring Delilah’s mood. The dark mornings and short days accompanied by non-stop rain lashing at her windows from morning until night merged into an endless blur of misery. After the call with Polly and for the first time since starting therapy, Delilah had cancelled her session with Arne. Noah’s visit, compounded by the devastating realisation she was still in limbo with her job, had left her drained. She knew skipping therapy and avoiding the one person who could authorise her return to work was irrational and risky, but she was too emotionally spent to handle Arne’s questions. Instead, she wandered between her bed and the bathroom, stopping occasionally in the kitchen to make a mug of tea or scrabble a makeshift snack from the dwindling supplies in the cupboard.
But staying away from Arne was doing nothing to take her mind off Noah. In completing Salome’s challenge, Delilah had made some form of peace with each man on the list and moved on. Until Noah. The crippling pain now sapping every ounce of her energy wasn’t embarrassment, shame, or a dented ego, but a breaking heart. She didn’t know when it had happened, but somewhere between finding Noah and watching him race out of her flat into Zazie’s arms, Delilah had fallen head over heels in love with her former fiancé all over again, and losing him once more had left her feeling worthless and utterly hopeless.
Noah loves Zazie. Noah loves Zazie. Noah loves Zazie. The three-word refrain ran on a constant loop in her mind interspersed with replays of the scene in her flat with Noah. As each day passed, Delilah grew increasingly listless and apathetic, and it was only her promise to babysit Maya and Arin while Salome took Farhan to dinner for his birthday on Saturday that finally forced her into the shower and out of her flat.
‘Why are you crying, Auntie Del?’ Maya demanded.
The child’s anxious voice shook Delilah out of her daydream of Zazie walking arm in arm with Mrs West while a delighted Noah looked on. Snap out of it, Del! Quickly dashing away the tears she hadn’t realised were there, Delilah opened her arms to cuddle her niece.
‘I’m just feeling a little sad, Maya-moo,’ she said shakily, squeezing her tightly. Glancing over Maya’s shoulder, she could see Arin crawling stealthily towards the table holding Salome’s precious blue pottery vase, and Delilah released Maya and scrambled off the sofa. Scooping the toddler from the floor before he could grab the table leg, she dumped him back onto the rug, laughing despite herself at the child’s disgruntled expression.
Maya pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘Arin’s very naughty. Mummy’s told him he’s not allowed near that table.’
‘I know, but he’s still a baby and curious about everything,’ Delilah explained. ‘You know, you were exactly the same at his age.’
Maya dismissed the comparison and instead knitted her brows into a frown identical to Salome’s. ‘Why are you feeling sad, Auntie Del?’
Because the man I love happens to love someone else. Delilah bit back the words trembling on her lips and gave her head a virtual wobble. She was the grown-up, and it was her job to look after the children in her charge, not the other way round.
